


One Crown

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I tried ok, Jaskier gets a hug, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Or something close to one, Panic Attacks, Pining, Unrequited Love, and Geralt wasn't there yet, because jaskier was a coward, injured geralt, it was never just a coin, not a confession fic, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: Geralt gives Jaskier a coin in Posada. He holds on to it. It’s just one coin after all. Insignificant on its own. It’s just one crown.Until it isn’t.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 74
Kudos: 725





	One Crown

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was inspired by [This Post](https://anarchycox.tumblr.com/post/616060892912730113/ivegotbreadinmypants-klep-the-bard) that pointed out that Geralt actually gave Jaskier a coin on their first meeting. Then i proceeded to project all of their love onto it and here we are. I hope you enjoy!

The Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, tossed him a coin.

Well. He had left one. On the sticky table in Posada. But tossed had a much better ring to it.

He knew it was just a crown. Worth just as much as all the other crowns in his purse. Not that he’d had any crowns in his purse that day. Or any coin at all. But it didn’t feel like all the other crowns. It felt special. Because Geralt had given it to him. 

When everyone else in that tavern in Posada had boo’d him, told him to shut up, told him to abort himself Geralt had given him a crown.

A single crown. Not worth anything on its own. Couldn’t buy a snack with a single crown. 

It was a single crown. It wouldn’t make the difference between a room at an inn or sleeping in the stables. If the price for an Inn was thirty crowns, well, an innkeeper would always rather have twenty-nine then zero. If he could only afford stew, well, the kitchen could give him four crowns worth instead of five right?

It was silly holding onto one crown. Geralt would make fun of him if he knew.

But it was such an insignificant amount that I’d never matter. Never make the difference between anything important. Not between freezing or being warm, hungry or full, life or death. So he let himself keep it. It was just one crown after all.

There are noises in the woods. It is dark. 

Geralt is hunting something dangerous. He wants to follow. Just so he can be near the safety of the Witcher. 

But he knows being near him is far more dangerous for both of them right now. The monster is strong and smart and wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. He’d be a distraction. He’d get one or both of them killed. That would be a terrible story, in part because no one would tell it. Or because he’d have to tell it. The story of how he’d killed the Witcher. 

He knows. 

Knows that Geralt is strong and smart and fast and has been doing this for decades. 

He knows.

That doesn’t stop the dread from building in his chest fearing that, this time, Geralt won’t come back. 

That he’s out there dying because Jaskier wasn’t there to bring him his potions or bandages or something.

It’s stupid. Geralt had managed for decades without him. Would manage for decades after him.

That didn’t make it easier to breath. To ignore every little noise the night made.

He thinks of the crown. The one he keeps separate from all the others.

Pulls it out. Rubs it between his fingers. Traces its design in the dark until he swears he’d know it blind by the slight dent in the emblems left wing and the fade in its inscription. 

He flips it back and forth across his fingers. Admires how it catches the starlight.

He lets himself focus on it until the heavy trudge of Geralt’s boots reaches his ears.

It’s the first noble’s banquet he’s been invited to.

Well, first Jaskier has ever been invited to. 

Julian's attended many.

He remembers the conversations.

He remembers commenting on the quality of a musician’s instrument. He had played it well. It was clearly just old, slightly warped by its long life, with stings nearing their end so its tone wasn’t quite right. But he played well.

The group had laughed. Made comments about the man and his instrument that were rude, scandalous, or hurtful all wrapped up in the niceties of court.

It had made him sick.

Filavandrel’s lute was not old or out of tune and the strings were good.

So it would be his songs, his dress, his attitude they mocked instead.

Nobles always found something.

His hands were shaking.

The other musicians were chatting. The young were upbeat and excited still thrilled by the opportunity. The experience were relaxed, used to playing court. They knew their worth, their skill. They were Confident.

Jaskier wished he felt like that, like either of them. Excited or confident. All he felt was anxiety.

His heart was racing. He put his hand against it, begging it to slow.

The coin pressed into his chest.

He’d sown a tiny pouch for it in his undershirt. Right over his heart. So he wouldn’t lose it accidentally. Wouldn’t thoughtlessly give it away when he was drunk. Wouldn’t risk a thief’s sticky hand taking it. 

His one coin. It was a small circle of pressure against his chest.

Posada hated him. The Witcher had given him a crown. 

His heart slows its panicked staccato rhythm.

They could mock him. They would mock him. But he’d still have Geralt’s coin. So it didn’t really matter.

The coordinator motioned for them to start. He sent her a confident smile and they started the set.

Toss a coin to your Witcher. Oh valley of plenty.

He reaches a crossroad. Geralt had been on this road. The last town had told him as much. But he doesn’t know which way he ended up going.

If he doesn’t find him soon they’ll likely not meet at all this year. 

He pulls the coin out of its pocket.

Heads he goes right. Tails he goes left. 

He hopes it will lead him back to Geralt. 

Let’s himself flip the coin.

Thanks it when he sees a familiar mare in the inn’s stable.

It’s just one crown. One coin. Worthless on its own.

He wants to kiss Geralt. 

Softly in his hair. His forehead. His lips. Every scar, every unmarked scrap of skin. Everywhere. 

He wants to press himself into Geralt. Leave some kind of lasting imprint on his heart.

He loves Geralt.

But Geralt would never welcome such affections. He barely tolerates the affection Jaskier lavishes him with now.

So he lets himself kiss the coin how he will never get to kiss Geralt.

Presses it into his forearms and chest until it leaves little impressions in his skin like he wishes Geralt would.

It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

But it’s all he’ll ever get. So he lets himself have these moments of fancy.

It’s just one coin. He has plenty just like it in his purse. He lets those coins come and go freely. Enjoys their brief presence in his life and does not mourn their loss. It just coin. It just one coin. 

Geralt is sick. He is very very sick.

Jaskier has no idea what to do.

There is a mage in town. Jaskier hates mages. They were powerful and bored. One of the deadliest, cruelest combinations.

But Geralt is so sick. He is limp atop Roach and his breathing is so faint. His skin clammy and cold where it should burn with fever. If he burned then at least that was proof he was fighting it. But he’s cold. And he’s only going to get colder. 

He is dying.

That is the fact that settles in his chest. Geralt is dying. He will do anything to stop that.

He manages to drag Geralt into her shack. It is a shack. In a tiny village. He bets she hates it. She does not help as he struggles under Geralt’s considerable weight, just directs him to lay him on the cot.

He does. His muscles scream from the exertion. But that pain is muted by the knowledge that Geralt is dying. That hurts far more.

“I have coin! I have a lot of coin! Please you can have all of it! If you can save him, you can have anything. Anything at all.”

Anything he says. It not a good deal. He knows it’s a terrible bargaining strategy.

Geralt is dying.

So that doesn’t really matter.

“All your coin should suffice.” She agrees. Begins her work. He breaths out in relief for the first time since he’d found Geralt. 

It is quite a lot of coin. He’d won a bardic competition not the week prior. While some of his winnings had been spent at the after party he was still flush with coin.

He’d planned to take Geralt to a nicer establishment with a soft bed long enough for their legs to stretch out in and a warm stable for Roach with all the treats Geralt would allow. Fill his saddlebags with food and buy him round after round of drink until they drunkenly giggled up the steps of the inn, arms holding each other up.  
He’d planned to celebrate with the man who’d made him who he was.

They would. He promised himself as he held Geralt’s hand. It would be smaller. He’d sing at the tavern and Geralt would grouse about his songs and they’d share a few rounds of shitty ale the customers sent over and eat over-boiled stew. And they would celebrate.

They would.

The mage stood up and declared her work done. The Witcher would wake soon.

He looked so much better. She had worked a miracle. He said as much.

She requested her coin.

He handed over his purse. It had been too heavy anyway. Threw off his walk and bruised his hips when he spun too quickly.

She took it in one hand and then held out the other.

“ _All _your coin.”__

__He pressed his hand to his heart. Geralt’s crown._ _

__It was silly caring about one coin. Like it was special. Like it wasn’t exactly like all the others in his coin pouch that he had already handed over without hesitation. They were all the same._ _

__Except for the dent in the emblem’s left wing and the fade to its inscription. Except for who’d given it to him._ _

__“You promised all of it bard. Including that one. I can undo the spell if you’d prefer.”_ _

__He shook his head._ _

__It was just one coin. Just like all the others._ _

__He unbuttoned his shirt just enough to pull it out._ _

__It was just one crown. Just one crown. Insignificant in its worth so he could keep it without guilt. It would never mean the difference between anything important. Like life or death._ _

__Until it did._ _

__He let himself trace the ridges and valleys of its design one last time. Pinch it between his thumbs and index fingers. Press his lips to it one last time._ _

__“Thank you. For always leading me back to him.”_ _

__He placed it in her outstretched hand. Her nails long and sharp like claws. She closed her hand around it. Turned around. Walked out._ _

__It was just one crown. Geralt would make fun of him for caring about one stupid crown._ _

__It didn’t feel like just one crown though._ _

__He knew tears were running down his face. Sobs wracking his body. He wanted to hold Geralt’s hand. But Geralt didn’t care for that kind of affection. Not from him at least._ _

__He’d wake soon. He had to get control of himself._ _

__He sat next to Geralt and tried to._ _

__He wanted to press the coin into his chest. Flip it between his fingers to watch how it played with the light. To push it into his skin until it left marks. It had always helped calm him down._ _

__Without it he didn’t know if he’d ever be calm again._ _

__But Geralt was alive. That was more than worth it._ _

__He didn’t see Geralt’s eyes open. Didn’t feel how his fingers clenched as the sobs tried to shake his body apart. But he heard him._ _

__“Jaskier?” There was a large hand on his cheek. A thumb trying to wipe away the endless stream of tears. He covered it with his own hand and leaned into it. “What’s wrong?”_ _

__“You’re alive.” He managed between the shaking in his chest and snot clogging his nose and the sobs still trying to escape his throat. He managed. He would learn how to manage._ _

__“Rude.” Geralt’s lips quirked up, amused at his own joke. He responded with his own laugh although it came out wrapped in a sob. Geralt’s eyes flicked around the small room before returning to him. “Where are we?”_ _

__He closed his eyes and focused on the small back and forth of Geralt’s thumb on his cheek. The tears slowed but did not stop. “Healers. A mage. I already paid.”_ _

__He could feel those gold eyes tracing over him. Taking in his wide open undershirt. The uncommon chaos of his hair. The thick tracks of tears._ _

__Geralt was alive._ _

__The shaking settled as relief blanketed him._ _

__“What did it cost?” Everything. Nothing. It was just coin. It was just one coin._ _

__“All my coin.” Geralt opened his mouth but he didn’t let him speak. It would have just been something stupid like offering to repay him. He didn’t need repaying. “So you’re buying dinner.”_ _

__Geralt closed his mouth and considered him. He hummed in agreement._ _

__Geralt’s hand stayed pressed to into his face. He held it there, begging Geralt to not pull away yet. He would surely shake apart if he did._ _

__It was just one coin. It was just one crown. Worth nothing on its own._ _

__But Geralt had given it to him. Seen his value when no one else had. And it was gone. It was gone._ _

__Geralt rustled the bed as he moved. He kept his eyes closed. Geralt probably looked uncomfortable, forced to touch him like this. But he needed this. For just a little longer. So he kept his eyes closed and pretended that Geralt didn’t mind. Pretended that he would be fine._ _

__It was just one coin after all._ _

__“Coin for your thoughts?” The laugh that escaped him had a hysterical edge. It pulled his face out of Geralt’s hand and he missed its warmth immediately. But he couldn’t push back into it. He let his hand drop from where it had held Geralt. Let them fall into his lap._ _

__He opened his eyes. The moment had passed and he couldn’t go back to pretending. Hopefully Geralt wasn’t too off put by him._ _

__Geralt looked concerned. He always was a kind man._ _

__He was holding something in his hand. He reached over and dropped it into Jaskier’s._ _

__A single crown._ _

__He stared at it._ _

__“Jaskier?”_ _

__His body was curling around it. Pressed its edge against his forehead. It would leave a small red line he knew._ _

__“This is the second crown you’ve given me.” He was shaking. Geralt must be so uncomfortable. But he couldn’t stop. “You gave me one in Posada too.”_ _

__Geralt hummed in confused agreement. Jaskier barked a laugh. He didn’t remember._ _

__Why would he? It just one coin after all._ _

__“I kept it. Still had it. After all these year I still had it.”_ _

__The shack was quiet except for their breaths. Jaskier’s shaky and Geralt’s slow and steady._ _

__“All your coin?”_ _

__“Every last one.” He confirmed._ _

__They sat there in silence. There was no point in offering the mage Geralt’s coin in exchange. They both knew that. She had known that it wasn’t just one coin. Else she wouldn’t have asked for it. It was just one coin after all._ _

__Exhaustion settled Jaskier into something approaching calm._ _

__“I’m sorry.” Geralt said looking away._ _

__“My dearest friend, you are alive. That’s apology enough. It was just one stupid coin after all.” He uncurled himself from the chair and sat straight head bowed as he’d been taught at temple school. Traced the new crown with his fingers. No dent on the emblems left wing. The inscription was worn but in a different spot._ _

__Geralt considered this. Weighing his words against the evidence his body presented. He had always been a smart man._ _

__“It wasn’t just one coin was it?”_ _

__He shook his head._ _

__“I played with it when you were out hunting, to keep myself from getting in your way. To distract myself from the fear that this time you wouldn’t come back. And when I was trying to find you and I didn’t know which way to go I’d flip it and go that way and it wasn’t perfect but I still found you. It still lead me back to you.” His voice was wet with emotion. He inhaled._ _

__“And whenever I got nervous before I had to play id press it to my chest and remember that even when they all hated me you gave me a coin. That for all your grousing and complaining about how my songs aren’t accurate you still saw worth in me. And I know that’s stupid because it was just one fucking coin that you don’t even remember giving me. But it was so important to me.”_ _

__“It was just one goddamn coin and it meant the fucking world to me.”_ _

__He wasn’t crying. His voice had wobbled and broken but he wasn’t crying. So at least he had that._ _

__Geralt patted his arm. Pat pat. Clearly at a loss for what to do._ _

__“Sorry.” He held the coin up to Geralt. “You asked.”_ _

__“I did.” He agreed._ _

__They lapsed into silence. Geralt memorizing the shape of the ceiling and Jaskier flipping the coin, tracing its shape. Memorizing every imperfection that made it unique._ _

__“Did you win?” Geralt’s eyes stayed trained on the ceiling, watching him out of his peripheries._ _

__It took him a moment to realize what Geralt meant. “The bardic competition? Yes. First place. It’s why I sought you out. Wanted to celebrate.”_ _

__Geralt’s brow furrowed._ _

__“Didn’t you celebrate plenty with the other bards?”_ _

__“Oh certainly. Got absolutely smashed, danced with half the town, banged the other half. You know. Standard after party stuff.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at the memory. What little he could remember of it. “It’s a shame you didn’t come. You’d have hated it.”_ _

__Geralt grunted in agreement._ _

__“How are you feeling? I don’t mean to rush you I’d just rather not be near the dangerous mage any longer than necessary. This village doesn’t have an inn but the town two hours back had one. We could go there.”_ _

__He watched as Geralt took stock of his body before easing himself into a sitting position. He wobbled dizzily and Jaskier reached out to support him. Held his shoulders steady as he stabilized._ _

__“Whoa there Geralt. I cannot lift you anymore today. If you’re going to pass out do it on the bed.”_ _

__“Not going to pass out.” He rumbled but waited a few minutes more before attempting to stand._ _

__Jaskier held his arms out ready to catch him. The dizziness had passed and he didn’t need the support. Jaskier’s arms were still wide open. Just in case._ _

__Geralt stepped into them._ _

__He put his arms around his back uncertainly and gave a slight squeeze as Jaskier had done to him countless times before. Jaskiers arms remained frozen in space unable to process what was going on._ _

__“Thank you Jaskier.” He rumbled._ _

__Geralt was hugging him._ _

__Geralt had never hugged him before._ _

__He had hugged Geralt before but Geralt had never hugged him. Pressed him closer on cold nights perhaps. Caught him when he’d stumbled. But never hugged for the sake of hugging._ _

__He remembered how to move his arms. He patted Geralt’s back. Pat Pat._ _

__“Anytime my friend.”_ _

__Geralt let go and walked out the door._ _

__Jaskier followed after._ _

__“Where to next?” He called as Geralt mounted Roach. She’d eaten some of the mages flowers he’d noted with no small amount of vindictive glee._ _

__“Lindenvale.” Jaskier blinked. The town two hours back the way they’d came? Did Geralt still feel ill enough to need a bed? “I owe you dinner.”_ _

__Jaskier jolted slightly at that. Then broke out in a beaming grin. “Yes. Yes you do.”_ _

__As Geralt turned Roach around Jaskier slipped the new coin back in its pocket and buttoned his undershirt higher against the breeze._ _

__It was just one coin. One wonderful little coin._ _

__“Lead on my friend. Lead on.”_ _

__And on they went._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I did in fact find out while looking up the design for a crown that they’re worth 100 copper and are actually worth a fair amount of money. Also Posada probably uses the Ducat or mark as its currency. But I found that out after writing most of this and I was Not going to change it. Apologies to any lore experts who were injured by these inaccuracies. Feel free to correct me in the comments if you know better. I literally just skimmed the wiki page. 
> 
> Sorry they didn't confess. Jaskier refused and Geralt was Not ready. I can't control them. And I wasn't up for writing 10,000 more words to get them there. They are in love, or will be. Hopefully first hug helped tied you over.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know if you had any favorite lines or scenes! Love y'all!


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